


Begin Again

by LetThereBeDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Cute, Exes, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetThereBeDestiel/pseuds/LetThereBeDestiel
Summary: "You just jumped over the counter and hid from a strange man carrying a pair of handcuffs are you a criminal I'm not harboring your fugitive ass in my coffee shop" AU - that, with a little twist.Based on this great tumblr prompt.





	Begin Again

It was just another morning at Castiel’s small coffee and pastry shop; the sky was cloudless, the amount of customers was typical for the early hour and Castiel was standing alone behind his counter, servicing one customer after another and waiting for Charlie’s twelve-o’clock shift, to have some familiar company. The hours went by slowly, and by 10:30 a.m. he was already daydreaming of his next break. That time, he didn’t notice the two young men who were running toward the shop at an alarming speed.

“In here, Sammy!” Castiel’s eyes rose at the shout, just in time to see the two men burst through the door. The shorter one ran toward the counter and leaped over it gracefully, his landing beside Castiel followed by the taller guy’s jump. The both of them knelt down and hid behind the counter, panting.

Castiel gaped at them, shocked, and the shorter man looked up at him.

“Dean?” Castiel blurted, forcing his jaw up.

“Cas!” The man grinned at him. “Long time no see, eh?”

“What the hell are you- oh, no.” Outside the shop, a dark-skinned man was searching the streets, a pair of handcuffs in his hand.

“Oh, yes,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Say, eh – any chance you, ah, cover up for us here?”

Dean couldn’t decipher the blank surprise on Castiel’s face; that was, until it was replaced with a pout.

“Hell, no. I didn’t break up with you for nothing.” He pointed an accusing finger toward Dean’s face and then folded his arms.

“Good to see you, Sam,” he added.

“You too, Cas.”

When he’d cut it off with Dean years ago, he secretly wished Dean would quit hunting and come back to Cas saying he was right to try to convince him to settle down and stop hunting all this time. Dean never came back, though.

Now, Dean was looking at him with pleading eyes and lifted eyebrows.

“C’mon, we were just getting some gun. It’s our big finale. We were gonna quit, right, Sammy?”

Sam looked at his brother, hesitant; then he looked at Castiel.

“Sammy?” Dean repeated, more urgently. The seconds ticked by; outside, the officer was approaching the shop. Castiel forgot all about his waiting customers, who were watching the scenario – some with interest, some impatiently.

“Not exactly,” Sam admitted eventually, and Dean’s palm rose to cover his face.

“We were getting the Colt, to catch the demon,” Sam continued. “The one that killed our parents. And then, yeah, we’re getting out. He promised.” He looked at Dean. “Wait, you did tell him about the Colt back then, didn’t you?”

“Sam-“

“You lied,” Castiel said, the ends of his mouth pulling down.

“Cas, please.” Without a warning, Dean took his hand and held it between his palms. “It’s just that demon and we’re done. I’m done.” He looked into Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel looked at Sam, and Sam nodded.

Before he had the chance to open his mouth, though, the door opened.

The man with the handcuffs – now tucked away in his back pocket – entered the shop and stood in the line. Castiel pulled his hand out of Dean’s grip and approached the customer in front of him, praying none of the people in the room understood quite what was happening.

He served one customer after another, his heart pounding quickly in his chest, until the man was finally standing in front of him.

“Can I get you anything?” Castiel asked, forcing the edges of his lips up.

“Victor Henriksen,” the man introduced himself. “FBI.” He pulled a badge out of the inside pocket of his suit and held it in front of Castiel.

 _FBI,_ he thought to himself. _Great. I’m getting in trouble with the freaking FBI._

“Did you happen to see these two men?” Henriksen asked and placed two pictures on the counter. Castiel looked down, examining them closely for a long moment. By his feet, Sam stopped breathing. Dean looked at him, silently putting a reassuring hand on his knee. He was too young to go to jail, but if Cas turned them in he would be left alone - by himself on the streets, in the best case - if Dean could throw all the blame at himself. 

“I think I saw them outside just a moment ago,” Castiel said eventually, gesturing at a random direction with his hand. “They ran that way.”

“Thank you,” said Henriksen and turned away; he was gone after a moment. Castiel continued serving his customers, only telling Dean and Sam they were free to go once the crowd in the shop was completely replaced by new customers who haven’t seen the Winchesters or the agent. He could only hope that the customers who saw Dean and Sam enter the shop wouldn’t give the three of them away.

While Sam went outside to check whether the surface was clear, Dean leaned on the counter beside Castiel.

“Thank you,” he said.

Castiel pushed his chest. “Don’t come back,” he said, trying to sound convincing.

“You sure?” Dean asked with half a smile, grabbing the ends of Castiel's fingers with his hand. He didn’t answer.

“Then I guess I’ll see you soon.” Dean’s smile widened into a smirk. He leaned in and grabbed Castiel's chin, kissing him before leaping over the counter smoothly and disappearing into the street.

His face turning deep red, Castiel turned to the small audience that watched the scene.

“You saw nothing,” he said solemnly, and one by one, they turned their heads away. Castiel put his head in his hands, his elbows leaning on the counter, and resumed watching the wall clock, waiting for new customers to arrive.

He wondered if instead of counting the minutes, he should start counting the days.


End file.
